Mother, May I Trust the Government?
by Jashi
Summary: Do you trust the government, and all that it teaches? The story of two women forced to rebel against what holds the country true and together because of their skin, their heritage, and their love.
1. Chapter I: The Opposite of Blue

Mother, May I Trust the Government?

By Jashi

N O T E: I don't own PotC. This is slash, and it's Anamaria/Elizabeth. That means women loving women. Please enjoy this fic. I have no idea how long it's gonna be. I got the title from a Pink Floyd poster. 

CHAPTER UNE (The Prologue)

When you live on the sea-coast all of your life, you eventually get sick of the color blue. On a bad day, you can't stand it, and lean towards a bright color, like yellow or red. Something the opposite of blue, especially that authentic, lovely blue of the sea. The blue that is not quite blue, but green and grey and a hint of blue all mixed together with white cresting the top. You wish to look at something other than the ocean on a cloudy day, when the sea matches the sky and in the distance you cannot tell which is which.

I met him on a day like that.

I was little, a young girl in the care of my father on a ship. When they pulled him ashore, he was blue with cold and white from the sea salt. He smelled of fire and smoke from the burning ship and the charred wood he lay across, unconscious. He matched the sea that day, a lonesome sprite drowning in the air, away from the ocean where he was supposed to lay. 

They pulled him up on the boat, and someone told me he was in my care. I noticed something gold glimmer on his neck, and reached out, my childish innocence taking over my hands, and touched it gently, pulling it up from his collar. It was a gold chain, with an aurous medallion, small in size, hanging from it. It was strange, a sinister beauty with its harsh skulls dancing on the golden disk.

Pirate gold. 

He awoke then, and scared the wits out of me as he sat up. 

"Where am I?" he questioned weakly.

"Who are you?" I retorted, thinking he was a pirate and deserved no respect as I had been taught.

"Will Turner." he breathed, and fell back again, exhausted. 

Years have passed…and years will come. 

Pirates are not what they seem. Some are the most lovably deplorable creatures on the earth. 

I love one.

The opposite of blue. Truly a diamond in the rough. Illusion hides the truth in many ways. This was the most remarkable. Because black is the most beautiful color if you see it in the right light. 

My father works in the government. I never knew my mother. He taught me the laws. He told me pirates were terrible, terrible rapists and raiders, murderers and scoundrels. They would kidnap a girl like me and eat me with a thousand others. The government was supposed to protect me from them, hold me in it's unphysical arms with love and devotion like it had for all civilized beings. Keep you in the dark, or in the light, as they say, from everything in the world. 

But, mother, may I trust the government?

Aye, I'm not really a lady. I'm not really a pirate. But I'm not quite what ye'd call civilized neither. I'm a darky, as some call me. Makes me burn with anger. 

My skin ain't white as the salt that lotsa folks have. My hair is darker than the night when there ain't a moon to walk by. If eyes are dark with emotion and lust then that's what my eyes are. They are dark.

Jus' like me.

S'alright. I like me. I'd rather be a cross between a pirate an' a lady then be just a pirate or just a fancy, dolled-up lass on the mainland, strutting about the streets, suffocating in corsets, bonnets adorning their heads. Flowers all over their dresses and in their hair, makin' 'em carry the spring season everywhere they go. Pirates…pirates are no good if ye have no heart and only that damned lust fo' gold and jewels. They try and fill 'em selves up with the whores and the gold and the rum and the sea-salt air but they can't. And they die unhappy, never findin' what they're lookin' fo'. 

I gotta heart. I never once was happy 'cause o' gold or jewels. She made me happy. She made me laugh. She made me feel things I never knew were there. I know now why pirates die unhappy.   


They can't feel what I feel.

I didn't know me mum. Me da died when I was ten or so. Me brother…he was taken to a colony. A colony very far away, 'cross the sea. Slaves. Damn the government. Who are we ta be pulled away from where we stood first? 

I stand here. 

Without trust for anything. 'Cept her. I trust 'er. 

Be a bit o' nothing without her.

Damn 'em for takin' me brother. Damn 'em for everything. I was taught after it I was inferior and not fit ta serve the ones who had sea-salt skin.

But, momma, do I trust the government? 


	2. Chapter II: Wheezes of Rain

Mother, May I Trust the Government?  
  
By Jashi

N O T E: Amen I say to you, POTC isn't mine. *dances* This is another warning along the lines of : This is slash. Don't read if you find it offensive. Please review. 

CHAPTER DEUX

"Oh…Elizabeth…good morning." came the words from a undecided man. His name was Will Turner. Will was a blacksmith whom I loved. He had also been placed into my "care" many years ago.

Until one day…on the second-greatest adventure of my whole life, did I ever question anything. 

It has been two years or so since the adventure and Captain Jack Sparrow had sailed off into the sunset. I remember as Will kissed me there on that balcony, I saw someone put a coat on Jack's shoulders. I knew it was her. Her face was dark like the Negroes my father talked about. 

I thought nothing of it. Even though I realized my heart was singing, my voice did not sing with it. I didn't realize anything at that point. 

I thought nothing of it…until that dream. I had a dream about her, the lass who I had met only briefly on our great journey to Isle de Muerta. 

I cannot recount the exact events of this dream to this day. But there was darkness and the darkness was beautiful. It was warm and lovely and wrapped about me like some sort of blanket. I felt cold rain and winds but it never touched me. The darkness kept me safe and warm even as hands and swords reached out to cut me away from it…

It was a wonderful dream. Because, you see, the darkness had hands…and feet…legs…arms…and the most soft, silken dark hair I had ever felt.

I remembered my father's teachings as a young girl…my father's and teacher's lessons that were odd and didn't make any sense to a child so young and innocent. Pirates, said he, my father, were scoundrels. They walked the earth only for treasure…they lusted for it like a man wishes for a woman in bed at night…oh, they were terrifying tales to my ears, and I grew to fear pirates. And my fear became what ruled my life.

My teacher's lessons were of a similar sort. Only, they taught of those from Africa…the negroes; those whose skins were as black as a moonless night. He told me they were not fit to lick my shoes. He also said they were ones who did not worship God, but their own heathen idols. They danced around fires and scarred their skin on purpose with wicked designs meant to draw me into the hells ruled by Satan. I had nightmares about them. And so I came to fear them…

"Good morning, Will." I smiled back at him. 

He was worried. In the past year I have not been able to respond to his caresses, nor kiss him with the fire and passion that I once held for him. It has burned out like a fire in a stove. That simply and that acceptingly. It amazed me at first, and I was sad that I could no longer hold him with warmth…only with the false heat of my arms and my hands, but never with my heart.

He was more shocked than amazed, more saddened than angry. I did not know why he did not simply slap me nor report to my father what an insufferable wench I was being to him by rejecting him after he said he had loved me for all of those years. But that was the beauty of Will Turner. He understood what happened when the fire of a forge burned out. It did not come back again. You must start a new fire, perhaps with new wood and a new match. 

It was on that day, that day when the sea and the sky matched in perfect, gray symmetry that I woke up again from the dream of comforting darkness. 

And it was on that day I saw the darkness walking in the flesh.

"Ana, may I ask why ye want ta be dropped off 'ere?" I heard the captain question from behind me.

"I've business, cap'n. I c'n not let it be any longer."

"I see." he mused beside me quietly. 

Gibbs steered us into the bay. 

"Well, I s'pose this is g'bye, Cap'n Jack Sparrow." I said with a small smile on me face. 

"Ana." he said seriously and put a hand on m'shoulder, "We'll be at Tortuga for the next month, takin' a break and reloadin'." 

His eyes danced. "Good luck, love. Take all ye can." 

"Aye. And I'll give nothin' back, rest assured." 

I took a jump off th' Pearl into the sea, tryin' ta keep a hold onto me sack and me hat as I hit the water. 

The ship with its mighty, ferocious black sails began to drift away, and I began ta swim with one last look at it, th' great ship o' freedom dreams. 

But I have an ole friend here, I remembered as I swam. His name's Johnny. Someone tol' me he be dead now, and I come ta pay m'last respects. I recall this also be the place where Will an' Elizabeth live. 

She was a fine lass, that she was. The smithy was a good man too. Honest, hardworking, everythin' a pirate really ain't, unless ye count bein' good at thievery hardworking.

I pulled myself up on the beach an' sat out ta dry. I fished me hat out o' the bag and tried ta get some o' the water out of it. I plopped it on my head and laid back on the gritty sand.   
No sky today, ye can't tell where the sea ends an' the skies begin. All one big, grey blanket coverin' the world and ta warm the seas. 

An' the Pearl had sailed away, gone fer at least a while, till I got that mad urge ta climb the rigging and sail off inta the warm Caribbean sunset.

Tis a beautiful thing, too. Red an' gold like the damned, seductive fires o' hell, the darkness 'round the edges creepin' in ta snuff out the liveliness of day and leave the night in its wake.

Johnny was a decent sort, as far as decency goes. I was a bit sorry ta hear he was gone. I figgered I'd come pay me respects and get on wit' it. 

But somethin' else called me.

It was a feelin' I got every time it'd rain.

My heart would sing 'cross the great ocean and when th' thunder clapped I thought somethin' would happen. Like the wind would swoop down on me and carry me someplace where there was warm and soft light. And one day durin' the worst storm I'd ever seen I saw somethin'. I don't know what it was, really.

IT wasn't cold or bare, not bitter or stiff light from a pure white sun.   
No, there was no sun. It was light, warmish golden-tressed light and it was everywhere. I thought I was either gonna dance 'r die in that poundin' rain with the screaming lightning all about the boat and careened across the sky.

Somethin' was flowin' down me, the lovely light mixed with the rain and was everywhere, in me hair, me clothes, me eyes…me bones. 

Then it was gone and I realized right then and there I had ta get off that ship. Jack said we were near Port Royale, actually. We'll drop ye off there in two days or so, savvy?

'E did. And now I'm lying on this gritty sand, waitin' for somethin' ta come, waiting for the sky ta breathe its great, shudderin' wheezes of rain.


End file.
